


A Promise Kept

by SilverFountains



Series: Royal Menage a Trois [13]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Durin Family Angst, Durincest, M/M, Thranduil showing his soft side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili and company are about to enter Thranduil's realm in search of Fili now and a familiar welcoming committee awaits them...</p><p> </p><p>This one is for iscatterthemintimeandspace for being such a loyal follower. Just don't read this one on the train ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iscatterthemintimeandspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/gifts).



“I can’t believe ya agreed to that last night,” Dwalin grumbles at Thorin whilst stuffing his pipe. He’s always grumpy in the mornings and even more so since they haven’t had any breakfast. They had wanted to travel as light as possible and therefore carried minimum supplies with them which have to be used sparingly. After all none of them know what will happen when they enter Thranduil’s realm, but with Thorin in their company it is unlikely that a banquet will await them. “He’s a lil voyeur, that one of yers.” He forgets his deep voice travels far and he isn’t nearly quiet enough for Kili not to hear.

“Whoah, hold on there, it wasn’t my idea!” Kili cries out in indignation from where he’s stuffing his bedroll back into his back.

Dwalin narrows his eyes at Thorin who just gives him a stoic look. “He’s right.”

“Hmpf, why am I even surprised,” Dwalin huffs as he drags himself to his feet, ready to pack up his belongings.

“You can’t call me a prude in one breath and then in the next scold me for spicing things up.” Thorin says it in such a casual manner he might as well be talking about making a cup of tea.

Dwalin glares back over his shoulder. “It’s hardly the same thing!”

Thorin looks up at him and smiles. “I quite agree. I think my suggestion last night was a lot less indecent than your last suggestion.”

“What suggestion?” Kili pipes up, curious where this conversation is going.

“Nothing,” the two warriors reply in sync.

Kili opens his mouth to protest, but he is cut off as Bofur, whom Kili had sent to scout the road up ahead, comes running back shouting “Orcs!”

They had expected such an encounter at Mirkwood’s borders and have kept their weapons at the ready. Within moments they can hear the shrieking of the foul creatures as they come thundering towards them. Kili is already on his feet and takes out the first two with a single arrow, impaling them together.

Dwalin has raised his axe and swings it at the first to enter his range whilst Thorin has already sliced his elvish sword through the neck of a fourth. Bofur is grappling with a fifth which he has pinned to the ground now before he buries his knife deep in the creature’s chest. There are only three more and they earn themselves a folly of arrows before being hacked to pieces, the melee warriors taking care of one each.

The fight is over before it’s barely begun, but they all know that these are just scouts and that more will follow. And they soon find themselves running out into the open and towards the Forest River which will lead them into the northern parts of Mirkwood. Into the realm of the Silver King.

 

***

It feels very much like deja-vu as they find themselves surrounded by the elven patrol pointing their arrows at them in a non-too friendly gesture, led by Thranduil’s youngest son.

Thorin’s heart freezes as the silver-haired elf prince and his own dark-haired prince have their bows trained on each other in a battle of iron wills. This is not good. This really is not good at all. He knows the young and angry adversaries can kill each other just like that to put an end to their feud once and for all. He also knows that pride will prevent either from backing down for the other and he has no idea what to do to resolve this situation without a bloodbath that could see his loved one killed.

Time seems to stand still as everyone holds their breath, their eyes fixed on the two royal enemies who continue to stare at each other; bowstrings pulled taut, arrows quivering against the string, eyes narrowing in a silent challenge.

“Kili !!” The cry comes from somewhere in trees above them as a flash of blonde hair comes tumbling through the branches.

“Fee?” Kili doesn’t lower his weapon but he releases the tension in the string just a little and for the briefest moment takes his eyes of his enemy.

It all happens in a flash. Thorin sees the elf prince twitch as if he might release his weapon and he jumps forward without a second thought to protect his One, Orcrist in hand. He hears a soft whistle and then a sharp pain rips through his chest which pushes the breath from of his lungs with force. The next thing he hears is the piercing scream of his loved one as his head hits the ground, before all goes black.

Kili feels like the arrow has gone through his own chest first, before it hit Thorin and the scream leaves his mouth before his brain properly has a chance to register what has happened. Thorin hits the ground with a sickening thud at the same time as Kili’s bow. And suddenly Kili is on his knees, screaming Thorin’s name as he crawls towards him.

But Legolas gets there first and he’s already got his hand against Thorin’s throat feeling for a heartbeat. He knows his guards have done their job well to react so quickly the moment his life appeared threatened and he also knows that they shoot to kill, not to maim. But he hopes that this time the aim will have been poor. Their relationship with the dwarves is strained enough without the elves being held responsible for the death of the dwarven king. And his ada would not be happy if he brought him such news.

“Get your fucking hands off him!!!!!” Kili screams at the top of his voice, clawing at the elf, but he is being held back by both Dwalin and Fili. It doesn’t even register that his brother is at his side as all he can see is his beloved laying deathly pale on his side on the ground, the two ends of the arrow protruding from his chest and back. He fights with all his strength against the arms holding him, crying and screaming such a barrage of obscenities at the elf that Fili is almost impressed by his brother’s colourful use of their language.

“He’s still alive,” is all Legolas says before he carefully gathers the limp body of the mountain king in his arms. Thorin may well be short compared to the elf, but like all dwarves he’s broadly build with thick bones and strong heavy muscles and he must weigh at least the same as the elf. However, Legolas seems to have no problem carrying him in his arms as if he was but a child. “But we must hurry.” And before they know it he is off, running through the woods with Thorin in his arms.

Kili is shaking uncontrollably now against Fili, who has wrapped him in his arms, and he is gasping for breath. He can feel his stomach turn and just in time he pushes hard at Fili’s chest before the bile leaves his mouth and splatters across the ground. He’s on all fours now as he continues to retch, whilst his brother is holding his hair and stroking his back, whispering reassuringly at him. The contractions seem to last forever, but eventually his stomach muscles are starting to relax and he wipes a hand across his mouth, panting heavily.

“Come my brother,” Fili whispers. “We must follow them.”

“Fee?” Kili seems to notice his brother for the first time then. “Oh Fee!” and he throws his arms around Fili again and they hold each other in a desperate embrace for a moment, before Fili and Bofur help Kili to his feet.

Some of the elves have at least had the decency to wait alongside the dwarves so that they can follow them towards the entrance of the Woodland Realm. Dwalin and Bofur are ahead of them and Fili can hear Bofur sobbing softly as Dwalin puts his arm around him.

Kili is leaning heavily on his brother and he follows as if he’s walking through a nightmare. And Fili too wishes to wake up any minute now.

***

“The arrow just missed his heart,” Thranduil had concluded after he had carefully removed it from Thorin’s chest. The slim elven projectile had pierced right through Thorin’s armour and his upper body, which at least had made it easier to remove the object. “I have done all I can and he must rest now.”

Kili had been taken to one of the guest rooms and Bofur had stayed by his side, doing his best to reassure him. He’d wanted to be with Thorin, of course, but he was in no fit state to do so and would just have been under Thranduil’s feet. Dwalin had stayed with Kili too, sat in the corner of the room. He was not so good with offering words of comfort, but he would ensure that Kili stayed in his room and that he was safe.

Fili had stayed at Thorin’s side and he had been surprised that the Elvenking had carried the procedure out himself and even more surprised by the care he had taken to dress and bind the wound. He had seemed genuinely concerned for Thorin and intend on doing everything he could to save him. He had even carried Thorin to the chamber where he was to rest, tucking him into bed like one would do a child.

And had Fili stayed, he would have seen Thranduil softly stroking Thorin’s cheek with the back of his hand before leaving the room.

***

It isn’t until the following day that Kili is allowed to see Thorin. The king is lying in a huge bed, looking lost like a child in a grown up’s bed. His skin is barely darker than the white silk sheets, his eyes closed, and Kili worries for a moment if he’s even alive.  

Fili is at Kili’s side, holding his brother’s hand as they approach the bed.

Tears are streaming over Kili’s face as he looks at his loved one, so deathly pale and still, and it takes all he has not to throw himself onto Thorin, only stopped by his fear of hurting his beloved. Instead he carefully crawls up onto the sheets and lies himself down quietly next to Thorin as he grabs his hand, his fingers stroking a repetitive circular pattern over the back of the large hand as he closes his eyes.

Fili cannot stop the tears welling up in his own eyes as he takes in the picture of the two of them together. If it wasn’t for the pallor of Thorin’s skin they would look just perfectly at peace together, their dark hair flowing over into one another, their features so similar, as if they are statues hewn from the same rock. All of a sudden he feels like he’s intruding and he moves to leave.

“Please stay with me,” comes Kili’s whispered voice. Fili thinks he is talking to Thorin first and continues his step. “Fee, please don’t go.”

As he turns his head, he can see Kili looking at him with such huge, sad eyes that it rips at his heart. “Oh Kee, of course I will stay if you want me to.” Kili nods as a tear rolls down his cheeks.

And this is how they stay, Kili holding Thorin’s hand and Fili with his arms wrapped around Kili. The three heirs of Durin, together once more. Until Thranduil comes to wake them and tells them they need to eat and that Thorin needs to rest.

***

Over the next few days Kili and Fili take turns to sit with Thorin. If Fili had let him, Kili would not have moved from his husband’s side, but Fili makes sure his brother gets some sleep every now and then, even if his dreams are haunted.

“Fili…” the whisper is so quiet that Fili wonders if he’s actually heard his uncle utter his name or has just imagined it. But when he looks up at the grey face he finds the eyes open.

“Uncle! I will get Kili,” and he’s up on his feet already.

“No,” the voice is strained but stops Fili in his tracks. “Stay a moment.”

Fili turns back and seats himself back down, taking Thorin’s large hand in his own. The skin feels so cold to touch. Too cold.

“Fili,” Thorin whispers again, blue eyes looking up at him, but they look almost grey against Thorin’s pale skin. “We have found you.”

“You have,” Fili manages a little smile for his uncle, although the worry and sadness in his chest is overwhelming him and he’s fighting tears.

“I promised him … I would find you.” Thorin’s voice rasps as he is struggling for breath.

“Hush, Thorin,” Fili strokes the back of Thorin’s hand as Kili had been doing. “You must rest now. You must get better.”

“Don’t ever leave again,” Thorin whispers, his voice so quiet now that Fili is struggling to hear him and he has to bend himself closer to catch it.

“I won’t, I promise,” Fili replies, pressing a gentle kiss on Thorin’s forehead.

Thorin smiles a faint smile.

Then a final choked sound comes from his lips. “Kili….” The sound starves away as Thorin’s eyes close again and he becomes very still.

“Thorin?” Panic rises quickly in Fili’s throat. “Thorin?!” He squeezes his hand, but gets no response. “Don’t you dare do this to me! THORIN !!!!” 


	2. Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a flash back...
> 
> Bofur recalls the moment that Thorin had proved himself as a leader to him who he would follow to the end of the world.

The very first time Bofur had met his King he had felt intimidated. Bofur came from a low ranking mining family and as he was growing up he could not have imagined that one day he would be standing shoulder to shoulder with the rightful king to the throne of Erebor and his two royal nephews fighting goblins. Not that Thorin cared that much about rank. He held traits such as honour and loyalty in much greater regard than that.  

The circumstance of their first direct encounter unfortunately had been the saddest possible. The explosion had been heard for several miles around and the entire community living in the Blue Mountains had frozen on the spot in the midst of their daily activities. They all knew what that sound meant. Accidents didn’t happen that often, but they did happen and when they did they were usually fatal.

Bofur had been late for his shift that morning which wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last and he had dragged his feet in anticipation of the telling off he would no doubt be getting from the overseer.  Afterwards he had thanked Mahal for the ale that had made him oversleep yet again, which undoubtedly had saved his life.

He was one of the first on the scene and he would never forget the devastation the firedamp explosion had sown. Several dwarves had been just on the outside when the entrance had caved in and although they were covered in a thick paste of blood and dust, they were the lucky ones. Many others hadn’t been so fortunate.

His caring instinct kicked in as he had started to guide the walking wounded towards a clearing, away from the wreckage. He had no healing skills, but he knew that he had to move them away from the unstable mine and that fresh air would be essential if they had any chance of surviving.

More dwarves had started running towards the collapsed mine now and they quickly formed a chain to try and shift some of the debris. Bofur was right at the front which meant he had the unenviable task of digging through the combination of rock and flesh, trying to identify which was which by feel alone as the thick black dust made no distinction.

When they had cleared enough of the falling stone that blocked the entrance, Bofur and another young and slim dwarf called Barlar agreed to clamber through to look for survivors on the other side.

Inside all they could hear was the soft moaning of those injured and dying. They could not use any flame here for fear of another explosion, so they had to continue their search using touch and sound only, with only the faint light coming through cleared hole to give them the smallest visual aid.

Bofur remembers clear as anything the moment he had tripped and fallen flat onto the body of one of his old buddies, lying nose to nose and just about being able to make out those blankly staring eyes. It was the first time he had seen death this close up and it wasn’t a sight he would ever forget.

It was as he was scrabbling to get back to his feet, his heart pounding in his throat, that he heard Thorin shout out: “Clear the way! Let me through!”

At that exact moment there was another shift inside the mine which filled the already suffocating space with even more dust and Bofur instinctively had put his shirt over his mouth as he closed his eyes against the toxic darkness.

It was a firm hand on his shoulder that made him jump and open his eyes again. Thorin had managed to climb through the opening himself and was staring at him intensely as the light of the widened opening was now giving them a little more of a view of their surroundings. “Are you okay?” he had asked in that deep rumbling voice. And Bofur had nodded, staring at the tall and broad dwarf prince in awe.

“Help me shift the wounded. Those that have a chance. Leave the dead and those that are beyond our help for now.”

Bofur and Barlar had answered his call immediately and the three of them had worked through the day, shifting rock and lifting those dwarves that will still responsive out of their dusty coffin and into daylight. It was a grim task as many more were dead or dying and more than once young Bofur had felt his already sensitive stomach turn at the sight of some of the horrendous injuries, particularly those of the ones that were still alive and keening in delirious pain.

The moment that stuck in Bofur’s mind more than any other, was the moment he had watched Thorin fall to his knees and bury his face into the body of one particular dwarf, his back arched as he had started to sob softly. Bofur could not see through the thick black soot who this dwarf was that had caused such a reaction from the heir of Durin, but it was clearly someone that Thorin knew closely. Bofur had watched with a lump in his throat as Thorin gently rose to his feet with the body cradled in his arms as he carried him to the entrance, which by now had been mostly cleared by their people from the outside. It was only later that Bofur had learnt that it had been Thorin’s brother-in-law, Kili and Fili’s father Orin, who had perished that day together with so many others.

Thorin came back though and he continued his grim work with the same care for every one of his people that he believed had the slightest chance of life. And it was humbling to see their powerful leader feeling the devastation of each and every loss.

***

It was not until a week later, after they had buried their dead deep into their stone tombs, that there was a knock on the door of the house that Bofur shared with his mum, da and his brother Bombur.  Bombur had opened the door and he had almost tumbled backwards at the shock of finding the dwarf prince on their doorstep.

“I am looking for a dwarf called Bofur,” Thorin had stated as he made his way inside.

Bofur had jumped to his feet and bowed deeply.

“No no,” Thorin had said as he had embraced the stunned young dwarf. “You must not bow to me as your service in the mine has already proven your honour. On behalf of all our people I thank you for all you have done to help save our wounded and bury our dead. I am forever in your debt. You and Barlar will always be honoured guests in my home, whether it be here or one day back in our rigthful home in Erebor.”

Barlar had had great difficulty dealing with the aftermath of what they had seen and he had left not that long after to go live with his cousin in the Iron Mountains. It was a long and dangerous journey and Bofur never learnt whether he made it or not.

But Thorin remained true to this word and he had treated Bofur like kin from that day after, making sure that he and his family were never left wanting for anything that Thorin was able to provide. And Bofur knew that it wasn’t rank or title that made him look up to Thorin with reverence, but his courageous and generous heart.  


	3. Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a flash back...
> 
> Thranduil thinks back about the first time he had met the young prince Thorin in the halls of Erebor and what that had led to...

Like his father before him Thranduil knew that the key to being a successful king were his alliances. Alliances were like a river during peacetime, feeding the kingdom with riches through mutual trade. Of course at times of war such alliances were even more valuable, although Thranduil also knew they could be as much a burden as a blessing depending on whether you were the party in need or the one required to involve itself if someone else’s conflict.

Human kingdoms were useful trade alliances providing a good market for elvish weaponry and silks, whereas in return they supplied wine, food and excellently bred horses. However, they were a vulnerable people, living such short lives meaning that knowledge had to be constantly passed from generation to generation. And although they were good warriors, their great mortality on the battlefield meant they had to make great sacrifices in such alliances.

The dwarves brought a very different value to the ancient alliances. They were once a race of great warriors with their fierce looks and great battle cries putting fear into their enemies before any weapon was wielded. However, their current king, Thrór , had grown fat and old as he wallowed in the riches his people had gathered. Now their greatest asset was just that, the wealth of the mountains that they mined. The dwarven skills in extracting such riches from the earth itself and working them into beautiful gems was unrivalled. And then there was the gold. It was rumoured that Thrór had gathered the greatest gold hoard ever seen within the halls of Erebor. Thranduil had warned him that with his weakened army he was extending an invitation for disaster, especially flaunting his riches as he did. But Thrór had just waved him off.

And then the dwarves had found the Arkenstone. The largest jewel ever uncovered. Some said it was the heart of the mountain itself. The dwarves had taken it as a sign that the king who possessed what they now called the “King’s Jewel” was blessed by the Valar themselves. And as such the lords of the clans had pledged their fealty to the King under the Mountain. This made Thrór a very influential dwarflord indeed and Thranduil knew he had to ensure Thrór would continue to honour the alliance with the elves as such a powerful king could also become a powerful enemy.

It had been many years since he had entered the great halls of the dwarven kingdom. He had known Thrór  throughout his life and he also knew his son Thráin. But he had not before met any of Thráin’s children, including his oldest son Thorin.

The first time he laid eyes upon him was when Thorin was stood at his grandfather’s side in the throne room. And the sight had struck Thranduil like lightening. He had never considered the dwarves a particularly attractive race, which their short broad build and their big bushy beards. But Thorin was something else. He was tall for a dwarf and his hair was black as the night. His short beard was beautifully braided, his long hair flowing like waves over his richly decorated tunic. But the most striking thing of all were his eyes. Grey blue like an autumn sky. Not as bright blue as the eyes of Thranduil’s own kin, but for a dwarf they were such an unusual colour and they complimented his dark locks like stars in a night sky.

Thranduil had only just managed to stop himself from staring openly at the dwarf prince during his consultation with Thrór. Just stealing the occasional glance, which he noted was met with interest each time.

***

It was not until they sat down for dinner at the great stone table that Thranduil was able to strike up conversation with the young prince. He knew the prince was but a child compared to him, younger than his own sons. But Thranduil’s wife had been dead for many years now and his bed had been cold for a long while. He could hardly remember this feeling, this stirring in his belly as he looked into the eyes of the dwarf prince.

Thorin was quietly spoken and polite, clearly having been schooled well in his duties as second in line to the throne. However, underneath that official mask Thranduil could see mischief sparkle in the eyes of the dark haired prince, as he offered to pour Thranduil more mead and brushed a little too close against his arm doing so. And Thranduil knew he was not mistaken, that this dwarf-child was openly flirting with him.

“How long will you be staying for?”

Thranduil smiled as he cocked his head slightly. “I regret that we must leave at dawn. We have a missive to deliver which cannot be delayed any longer. But I had promised to meet with your grandfather on our way there.” And he lowered his voice just a little, leaning himself slightly towards Thorin. “And I am glad that I did so.”

“So am I,” was the response above the table. Under the table, however Thranduil was startled by a gently brush against his thigh. His eyes grew large as he glanced from the corner of his eye at Thorin, but the young prince had turned his head away and was making light conversation with one of Thranduil’s company.

Dinner seemed to stretch on for eternity. The dwarves liked to eat, a lot, and they also liked to drink, even more. Thranduil noticed that the dark hair prince had already consumed enough of their strong ale to knock out a horse, but he didn’t seem any worse for it, unlike most of Thranduil’s company who were not used to drinking such great volumes of the strong dwarven brews.

It must have been deep into the night, when Thorin pushed his chair back and excused himself. He turned to bow to Thranduil before taking his leave, but only Thranduil could see the challenge posed to him in those eyes.

He knew he could not be too obvious about it, but when he felt that an appropriate amount of time had passed, he too excused himself from the table and advised his companions that he was retiring as they had a long journey ahead. It wasn’t impolite as King Thrór had already left the table some time ago.

“And now what?” he thought to himself. He knew what he wanted. He knew what the silent challenge from the prince had meant. But he didn’t even know where the royal quarters were. He could hardly go around knocking on doors asking where he might find Thorin’s bedchamber.

That was an issue no longer, however, when he found the note shoved under his own chamber door. The hastily scribbled lines might not have meant much to anyone else, but Thranduil quickly interpreted it as a map from his chamber to … As he looked in the mirror he reprimanded himself for his foolishness, knowing full well that what he was about to do under the roof of another king would be considered treason and could do untold damage to the relationship between the wood-elves and the dwarves of Erebor. But at the same time he was not going to let it stop him getting what he wanted more than anything right now.

***

He didn’t need to knock. It would have been a ridiculous gesture indeed. The invitation had already been granted and it was now up to him to accept. He had been careful to make sure he was not followed. Of course entering the royal quarters had been awkward as it was guarded. But he was a king and a simple explanation that he was delivering a private message to King Thrór was enough to grant him access.

He knew he’d stepped into an adder’s nest the minute he closed the heavy door behind him and found the young dwarf prince lying on his bed, his chest stripped bare showing off his muscular torso.

“You found me,” Thorin smiled at him as he pushed himself up.

“I should not be here,” Thranduil stated as he made no move forward, clearly to Thorin’s frustration.

“Perhaps.” The prince slid himself off his bed onto his feet. “And yet you are here.”

For a moment they just looked at each other. Thranduil taking in the rough beauty before him. Thorin was like an uncut black diamond. Something that he felt he could shape into the most beautiful gemstone.

Then Thorin stepped towards him. Of course his dwarven stature was much shorter than Thranduil’s. “You are going to have to bend down,” he chuckled deep in his throat, eyes sparkling from under heavy eyebrows as his hand reached for Thranduil’s slender waist.

Thranduil was torn for just a second longer before he gave in to the request. Thorin’s lips were hot and wet against his and the brush of his beard was sending tingles down Thranduil’s spine. Before he knew it he let himself be dragged towards the bed, knowing what a dangerous game he was playing. But a delicious game even so. Now that they were seated, their height difference was less pronounced and Thranduil let the yearning dwarf prince push his tongue greedily into his mouth as his large hands were starting to roam Thranduil’s body. As he returned the massaging of lips the Elfking could feel himself stiffen under the touch, something that had not happened to him for a long time. And Thorin grinned at him as he started to slide his hand between the folds of his royal gown.

But no matter how much he wanted to take things further, to take Thorin there and then and show him the stars, he knew that this was not the place to pursue this. He had already played with fire enough and he could not risk the wrath of the Mountain King any more.

Thorin growled at him like a feral animal, fire gleaming in his eyes, when Thranduil had gently pushed him back.

“If we are to do this, we will do it properly,” Thranduil had stated with royal authority. “I will request from your grandfather for you to join me in Emyn Fuin on my return. I shall state as the reason for you to be taught my language to aid our trade alliances. Perhaps then we can continue what we have started here.”

“Perhaps?”

“We shall see how well you please me with your studies.” With a smile Thranduil placed one last lingering kiss on those redhot lips before he rose to his feet and without a further glance back left Thorin’s room.

***

***

Thranduil looked at the still figure lying in one of his finest guest rooms. He knew he had done all he can to save the mountain king, but his fate was no longer in his hands. Sadness lay heavy in his chest. Sadness for what had passed between them, what probably could never have been, but even so… He knew that Thorin would never forgive him for not coming to their aid when Smaug took the mountain. But the moment he had seen the devastation he had known that no army would be big enough to save the dwarven kingdom. He could not ask his people to sacrifice themselves for a cause already lost.

He had to acknowledge that he probably could have done more for the dwarves thereafter. Thorin probably had a fair cause to hate him for not actively offering them aid after the dwarves had been made homeless. But he knew that there was no point dwelling over what has passed, what he had or had not done. His life stretched too long to hold onto regrets and grudges.

But as he gently stroked the dark hair from the pale face he could not help but wonder what would have happened between them if Smaug had never come. 


	4. Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a flash back ...
> 
> Fili was raised as heir to the throne, which made him cling to his uncle as his great role model from a very early age. Thorin had promised him for so many years that one day they would reclaim their homeland and their rightful throne. And Fili remembers the day that promise became reality.
> 
> Inspired by the beautiful drawing "Some Things Never Change" by Kaciart (http://kaciart.tumblr.com)

“What’s the matter, Fili?” Thorin knelt down and pulled his nephew close as stroked his blonde hair through the sobs.

“Dana’s boys were making fun of me!”

“Now why would they do that? What did they say?” Two large hands cupped Fili’s face as he forced him to look at him.

“They said that I wasn’t a real prince. That you are not even a real king as you have no throne and no crown.”

Thorin suppressed the hurt that that comment caused him and he swallowed hard as he was supposed to offer his nephew words of comfort here, not wallow in self-pity. “Well, I am not a king yet. But one day we will reclaim Erebor and I will be. And so will you be when my time comes to join my grandfather in the halls of waiting. Do you hear me?”

Fili nodded through his sniffles. “There’s a good boy.” And he picked up his young heir and cuddled him in his lap as he took his seat in front of the fire.

“Will you tell me about Erebor, Thorin?”

Thorin smiled at the big blue eyes staring up at him. He had told his two nephews so many stories about his lost home over the years, but they never seemed to get enough of the tales which filled Thorin with pride. Every day he prayed to Mahal that one day his sister-sons would be able to see the truth of those tales for real. That they would be able to walk through the halls of their grand kingdom and enjoy the same wealth and comfort that he had once enjoyed there.

“Erebor or _Zesulul’abad_ as it is known in our tongue is our home,” Thorin started in the same way as he had started every tale about the Lonely Mountain, just to reinforce it, as much to himself as for Fili. And once more he told Fili of the grand statues at the entrance, the long hall ways that echoed with the sounds of labour, the huge bellows at the forges pumping heat into the fires and of course the large stone throne with the Arkenstone at its centre. The throne that was their birth right.

“Uncle? Will we really go back one day?”

It warmed his heart that Fili referred to it as “going back” even though he had never set foot in the great kingdom, having been born here in Ered Luin.

“Yes, my little prince. One day we will go back and I will show you every little bit of our amazing home.”

***

It had felt like a dream when Fili had turned up at the gates of Erebor. Thorin had sent Ori and Nori to fetch them from Esgaroth, to let them know that Smaug was slain and their home reclaimed. But not even the great stories that Thorin had told them about Erebor could have prepared him for the reality and he had felt completely overwhelmed to the point of wanting to cry a thousand tears of happiness.

As they stepped through the enormous entrance, Bifur was there ready to hug his cousin Bofur who had stayed with them as Kili was recovering from his injury. And he continued to welcome the princes in the same warm manner. “ _Vemu,_ Bifur _, caku men rasp?_ _Kuŋ_ Thorin _?”_ Fili asked the elder dwarf as he returned the hug.

Bifur beckoned the group of four to follow him down the long entrance hall and towards the throne room.

If Fili had felt humbled by the exterior of their mountain home, the interior was positively breath-taking despite the devastation caused by Smaug. He noticed that his brother and their companions were equally awestruck as they turned their heads this way and that. Oin was old enough to remember Erebor, where he had been born, so for him this was a true home coming. But the rest of them had only known it from the tales of their elders. Tales which fell way short of its humbling magnificence. And Fili felt this great pride rise up into his chest at the realisation that this was the home that his people had built. The home which one day would be his to rule.

Thorin had not officially been crowned yet. He had waited for the return of his nephews before they would initiate the ceremony. But he had governed Erebor from the moment Smaug had been killed as if he had never done otherwise and everyone present had immediately accepted him as King under the Mountain regardless of official inaugurations.

And when Fili laid his eyes upon the king on the throne he forgot for just a moment that Thorin was his uncle. The same dwarf who had read him bedtime stories and kissed him goodnight. Who had nursed him better when he had hurt himself. Who had taught him the songs about this great homeland and the battles of old. Who had shown him how to fight with swords and axes and forge with hammers. Who had been like an   _‘adad_ to him and his brother after their own father had died. But right there and then he was his King. And Fili felt himself kneel next to his brother without prompt as together they paid homage to their leader who had managed to secure their long lost home for them.

“Fili, Kili,” Thorin’s voice rumbled from his elevated seat. “Stand up. Your place is at my side.”

And Fili and his brother obliged and ascended the steps to the king’s throne, taking their place up beside him, Fili closest to Thorin’s right side and Kili next to him, slightly stood back as the second in line to the throne. It felt unreal. When they were little they had played out this very scene so many times, sometimes with Thorin as a willing participant adorned with a crown made of twigs or flowers - whichever they could find - and other times with Fili as the king, Kili at his right side. But now they were standing here for real, looking out over the great hall. And everyone present must have felt the same significance of that moment as ten dwarves and a little hobbit kneeled in front of the throne and bowed their heads to the heirs of Durin.

***

But some things never change. And that evening, after they had all enjoyed a humble but wonderful meal together for the first time in their reclaimed home, Fili and Kili joined Thorin in his chambers to smoke a pipe together and talk about the things that had happened in each other’s absence.

Thorin told them of the battle with Smaug, how they had tricked him into relighting the cold forges and had smothered him in the gold, before finally bringing him to his doom as he was weighed down by the heavy metal. Fili had seen the enormous beast cast in the gold and he thought his uncle must be truly favoured by the Valar for having defeated the calamity that had caused such destruction to their home.

Fili told of the happenings in Esgaroth. He did not mention the delusional murmurings of his brother when he had been gripped by fever, but he did tell Thorin how the red-haired elf had aided Oin in preparing the salves and extracting the poison from Kili’s wound. He could see his brother giving him the evils as he twisted the tale somewhat, but he knew it was in Kili’s best interest not to place too much emphasis on the aid of the elfling or raise any suspicion about was going on between her and his little brother.  It had annoyed him enough - protective as he was of Kili - but he could not begin to imagine what Thorin’s reaction would be if he found out about it. Instead he quickly moved on to the fight with the orcs and how they had fended them off, perhaps here also somewhat understating the involvement of the elves. Well, he was sure Thorin had added some of his own artistic freedom to his tales about the dragon.

When they had all come to the end of their stories, Thorin had opened up his arms to them. They really were too big now to sit on his lap, but Thorin didn’t seem to care as they wrapped themselves around his waist. He just wanted to have them close. “Fili, Kili, I know you were angry with me for leaving you in Esgaroth. But you most know that there is nothing I love more in this world than the two of you. You have always been my greatest treasure and you must remember that.”

“Love you too, Thorin,” Kili had sighed as he had buried his face in Thorin’s hair as he had done for as long as Fili could remember. And Fili knew full well that regardless of the little crush on the elfling, there was a deeper truth to those words than Kili was admitting to.

“It’s okay, uncle,” Fili had whispered as he rested his head against Thorin’s shoulder. “Thank you for bringing us home.”

And even though they had their own room now, that first night they slept in Thorin’s bed, Fili on his right and Kili on his left, just like they had so many times when they were children and had needed to feel the comfort of each other’s warmth. And as Fili listened to the slowing and deepening breathing of his brother and uncle as they drifted off to sleep he felt that things could not ever be more perfect than that precise moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zesulul'abad = Lonely Mountain (Erebor)  
> Vemu, Bifu, caku men rasp? = Greeting, Bifur, how are you?  
> Kuŋ Thorin? = Where is Thorin?  
> ‘adad = father


	5. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cute flash back for Valentine's day... when Kili first started to have a crush on Thorin.

Thorin had arrived for dinner after working in the smithy of the human settlement as he had done every evening since they had settled in Ered Luin. With no partner of his own his sister had assumed the responsibility of caring for her hard-working brother for she knew if she didn’t he wouldn’t eat well enough to continue the physically demanding jobs that kept them all fed and housed.

Her sons were young adolescents now. Fili had started to come into his own, his muscles slowly filling out as he had started to help his father with the heavier tasks around the house and occasionally helped his uncle in the forge. The first stubbles of manhood were now starting to form into something that started to look like a proper beard and Dis knew that her son was starting to show and get interest from other dwarves and dwarfmaids now, although both his father and Thorin were fiercely overprotective of him. Kili, however, although only a few years younger, was still very much in the mids of that period between childhood and becoming a young adult. He was growing fast - he was already towering over his mother – but his limbs seemed to grow at twice the speed of the rest of him, making him clumsy. His hair had always been untameable, like Thorin’s had been at that age, and it gave him a look like a wild animal.

“Kili, get your uncle a mug of ale please,” she ordered him as he was getting under her feet in the small kitchen as she added the final seasoning to the lamb stew that was bubbling on the stove.

“Do I have to?” Kili grumbled. “Can’t Fee do it?”

Dis looked at him in surprise. Kili was at that awkward age when he kicked against most things she suggested. But he revered his uncle and had never turned down an opportunity to please him before. “Fee is helping your da chop wood. And I asked you to do it.” Kili was shuffling his feet uncomfortably and his hands were fumbling with the laces of his sleeves. Dis noticed a light blush creeping up his neck as he avoided her stare. “Don’t make me ask you again,” she told him sternly.

“Fine, I will,” Kili shot at her as he stormed down the steps into the cellar.

***

Thorin smelled of sweat and iron. He had smelled like this for as long as Kili could remember. It had been a familiarly comforting kind of scent during his childhood. But now it was making him feel a little light headed and it did things to his body that he was not comfortable with. 

“Thank you, Kili,” Thorin smiled at him as he put the mug of ale in front of his uncle.

Kili returned the smile, but he felt his cheeks heat up so he quickly turned his back.

“Sit with me, nephew. Tell me about your lessons today.”

Kili felt his heart beat a little faster and sighed as he slowly turned back and took a seat at the table, as far away from Thorin as possible. He continued to stare at the table as he told Thorin about his day.

“You work hard. That pleases me,” Thorin smiled again at Kili, who was still refusing to return the gaze. “I thought perhaps tomorrow you could come hunting with me? If Orin allows.” That made Kili look up alright, his uncle had never asked him to go hunting before! “Dwalin tells me you are rather skilled with your bow. I would like to see so for myself.”

“He is amazing with his bow!” Fili came thundering through the door, his arms stacked full with blocks of wood which he dropped onto the floor in front of the fireplace. “Hello uncle, did you have a good day?” He gave Thorin a kiss on the cheek, which sent a little jealous stab through Kili’s belly.

“It was fine, thank you, Fili. All the better for seeing you in such good spirits.”

And at that Orin entered the dining room and Dis started to serve the stew and homemade bread and they all turned their attention to the simple but delicious food.

***

“So you are going hunting with Thorin tomorrow?” They were lying on their backs in bed, both still wide awake.

Kili just grunted in response.

“I thought you’d be more excited than that?”

“I am. That’s the problem, Fee.”

“What do you mean? … Oh…” Kili turned himself onto his side away from his elder brother as the thought alone was making him grow hard. But Fili wrapped his arms around him and slid a hand down his body, grabbing at his stiffening cock through his bedclothes. “I see…”

Kili could hear the grin without the need to see it and he slapped his brother’s hand away. “It’s not funny, Fee!”

“It is a little bit. You have the hots for Thorin!”  

Kili didn’t really know what to reply to that. There was no point denying it as his body was intent on betraying him and showing off the truth anyway.

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

Kili head snapped round. “Are you out of your mind?! Of course I can’t just tell him!”

“Why not? I am sure he’d be flattered. You never know, he might feel the same way about you.”

“He doesn’t,” Kili turned himself back over again and buried his face in his pillow, pretending to be asleep. And Fili knew his brother well enough to know that meant the end of the conversation.

***

Thorin arrived early that morning to pick Kili up. The young archer had already busied himself packing some bread and cheese for during the day and he was carefully checking the feathering of his arrows when Thorin put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. “Are you ready to go?”

Kili blushed lightly as he looked up and smiled shyly. “Think so.”

He gathered his arrows in his quiver, which he strapped onto his back before giving his mum and da a kiss on the cheek.

“Have fun, little one,” Dis told him at which Kili pulled a face and scowled at her.

“Don’t get into trouble,” Orin grumbled, knowing full well that he was wasting his breath.

“He won’t, I will look after him,” Thorin smiled as he put a protective arm around his nephew, who, Dis noticed, froze at the touch. “We will be back before nightfall.”

As they left the house, Dis shuffled up a little closer to her husband and planted a kiss on his bright golden hair, whilst putting her arms around him. “You know, Orin, I think you are going have to have that chat with our youngest sooner rather than later.”

Orin looked at her and then looked at the door that had fallen closed behind his son and brother-in-law. “You think so? I hadn’t noticed he’d started to show such interests.”

Dis nodded with a smile. “Oh I think he has!” and she giggled to herself at the obliviousness of the men in her life, be it her husband or her brother.

***

Of course Orin never got the chance to have ‘that chat’ as only a few days later disaster struck the dwarven community and he died alongside his brothers in the mine explosion. Dis was struggling to come to terms with the loss of her husband and her brother had offered to become the boys’ guardian. And Thorin had done his best to look after his two nephews whenever he was in Ered Luin, helping them through their grief and turning them into multi-skilled, proud and loyal dwarves.

Fili became a bit of a handful during those first few years, not returning home some evenings as he was clearly making the most of the increasing attention he was receiving. After all he was handsome and of royal blood, making him quite the catch.

It had surprised Thorin that Kili didn’t seem to follow in his brother’s footsteps. He had expected the youngest, who had always been one to find trouble wherever it was to be found, to come home one night to tell his uncle that he’d gotten some dwarfmaid knocked up. But Kili never seemed to show much interest in either the males or females that flirted quite openly with him. Perhaps it was because Thorin was even more protective of his youngest nephew than he was of Fili.

Or perhaps it was that Kili had already found his One and was just waiting desperately for him to notice him in that way in return.  


	6. Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final flash back from Thorin's best friend ...

“Ye’ll be the death of me,” Dwalin grumbled as he pulled out. Thorin just lay there grinning, splayed out on his bed and not making the slightest move to clean up the mess between his legs or on his stomach. He’d been insatiable recently and it was actually beginning to wear Dwalin out. “Hope ye’r satisfied, Yer Highness.”

“For now…” Thorin smiled sleepily as he started to drift off to post-coital sleep. At least it would give him a moment rest, Dwalin thought to himself as he started to pull his breeches back on.

Balin had warned his brother that getting into bed with Thorin was a bad idea. The prince was high maintenance in all aspects of his life and so it was only to be expected that he had high demands when it came to bedsports too. What was worse, however, was that Dwalin knew that if Fundin or Thrain would find out what the royal guard was doing to the crown prince, they would have his balls on a plate.

Thorin had told him it was his own fault for not letting anyone else near him. And Dwalin supposed he had a point; he would have gutted anyone who’d dared stick a finger out at Thorin. And well, there were worse things his lord could demand from him. Despite his grumbles it wasn’t like Dwalin wasn’t willing. And he should count his blessings – he knew there were plenty who would gladly take his place to serve the handsome prince.

***

***

Thorin had changed. They all had of course after the horrors of Smaug and subsequently Azanulbizar. But none more so than the dark-haired heir to the throne of Erebor. Dwalin felt sorry for him as much as he admired him. In quick succession Thorin had lost his home and comforts, seen his grandfather and beloved brother slain before his eyes and his father had gone mad and had neither been seen nor heard from. Now, barely of age, he was responsible for leading their exiled people and finding them a permanent home.

Eyes that had once sparkled in mischief now stood sad and angry, consumed by grief and hatred. He truly looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, which is pretty much what it must have felt like to the young prince, who now looked many years beyond his age.

Thorin had decided to move away from their temporary settlement in Dunland and lead his people on to Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains, where he hoped Durin’s folk could prosper once more. But it was a long and hazardous journey and as they set up camp on the flood plains of Minhiriath in Eriador, he could see his people were exhausted, feet blistered, supplies all but run out. But they never once complained and they would have followed Thorin to the end of the world.

Thorin had made sure that everyone was settled and safe as they could be for another homeless night, before he disappeared. He never went far – Dwalin would not have allowed him to wander the wilds on his own – but he always distanced himself from the others. No-one had ever followed him. Most wouldn’t have dared to approach their liege lord without invitation and those that were close enough to him allowed him this brief moment of privacy.

But that night Dwalin followed him. And as he got closer he froze as he could see the gentle shaking of Thorin’s shoulders in the moonlight and hear the soft sobbing. “Damn it,” he thought to himself. He’d had this deep primal feeling in his gut that Thorin needed him that night. But now that he was there he felt awkward, not sure what to do next. He was no good with emotions. And he had never seen Thorin cry. But he knew he’d be a coward and a lousy friend if he turned his back then and he was neither of those things! So he sighed and stepped forward, taking a seat next to Thorin on the fallen trunk of a tree.

Thorin’s head shot up at the intrusion. “D..Dwalin,” he stuttered, quickly wiping his sleeve across his face. “You should not have followed me. You should not see me like this.”

“Like what exactly?”

Thorin sighed deeply and then whispered softly. “Weak. Pathetic.”

Loyalty, anger and pain battled for dominance in Dwalin as he put a strong hand around Thorin’s neck and pulled his forehead against his. “Don’t y’ever say those words again, Thorin. Ye’r none of those things!”

Thorin snorted, trying to pull himself free from the iron grip but not succeeding. “You find me here crying like a babe, whilst our people are dying of exhaustion and starvation. What image does that set?”

“That ye care. About all of us. This isn’t weakness. This is strength. Damn it, Thorin, you know I’m n’good with words. But ye’ve given everything to bring us here. Ye could have left us like yer father.” Thorin gave him a fierce look at that. “Sorry Thorin, but y’know it’s the truth. You stayed. Ye led us here. We’re so close to Ered Luin. Don’t lose heart now.”

Dwalin allowed Thorin to glance over his shoulder, towards the dwarves gathered around small fires. “What if we never make it? What if I have been a fool and we cannot set up home in Ered Luin? Maybe we should have stayed in Dunland…”

“No,” Dwalin replied firmly. “Ye know that was no option. There was nothing there for us. Ye made the right decision.” And he put an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “I’ve never doubted ya.”

Thorin let himself be pulled into the embrace. Grateful for the comfort of a friend. “Thank you, Dwalin. I could not ask for a more loyal friend than you.”

And for a final time their lips touched. It wasn’t a kiss of lust or passion. But one of the deepest possible friendship and respect for each other. 


	7. Thorin

Fili isn’t sure who entered the room first. They all seemed to run in at once in response to his desperate cry and all of a sudden he is pushed aside by a sleek hand in a flash of silver and brocade, whilst he can hear his brother’s chocked sounds behind him, trying to push past him.

“You two,” Thranduil points at Fili and Kili, “you stay. The rest, leave!” If he cannot save the dwarfking his nephews should be at his side as he leaves this life. But he also wants them there as witnesses that he is trying to save Thorin and not aid his demise.

Fili can just see Bofur and Legolas wrestling Dwalin out of the door before it falls shut behind them.

Then Thranduil bends himself over Thorin, his cheek almost against the dwarfking’s lips as he listens for breath, his fingers wrapped around a lifeless wrist.

Fili and Kili’s mouths fall open simultaneously as the Elfking next opens his mouth and appears to take Thorin’s into a deep kiss.

“What the fuck?!” Kili cries out as he launches himself at the Silver King, but Thranduil hits him in the chest with a flat palm and sends him flying backwards, without even looking at him or taking his lips away.

Fili sees it first. Thorin’s chest rises up as Thranduil appears to blow air into his lungs, as if he is breathing for him. He’s never seen anything like this before. Their healers know how to make salves and ointments for burns and battle wounds. But he has never seen them kiss someone back to life.

He grabs onto Kili who is fighting him for just a moment until Fili whispers into his ear: “Look Kili. Look, he is breathing life into him.”

Thranduil has now put his hands onto Thorin’s chest and presses down firmly in a steady rhythm, before he returns his mouth to the pale lips of their King, pushing his head back just a little. And the two brothers watch in deathly silence, holding their own breath, as Thorin’s chest rises again at the forced breath into his lungs.

Then Thranduil straightens himself and lays his hands on Thorin’s chest, right over the arrow wound as he begins to chant in a soft deep voice. The brothers have both witnesses the healing power of elvish chanting when Tauriel had drawn the poison from Kili’s wound. But this is not the same thing. Thorin has clearly passed from this world and no elfling can call him back from The Maker. The chanting seems a hopeless effort and as it continues it sounds more and more like a lamentation to the King’s heirs than an attempt to heal; no-one can bring back the dead, not even the great Thranduil.

Kili starts to sob, believing that there is nothing more that can be done. That his husband has slipped away from him and that they will not see other again until Kili himself is granted access to the afterlife. Fili too thinks the fight is lost as he squeezes his little brother closer, tears now stinging in his owns eyes.

But then Thorin pulls in a breath. Shallow at first but the next one is deeper and stronger. Thranduil continues to chant as he guides Thorin back into the room, forcing the oxygen that Thorin is now drawing into his lungs to feed his heart. The breaths come uncoordinated, faltered at first. And Fili fears that each could be a last. But finally they seem to fall into a natural rhythm. And as Thranduil slowly lifts his hands from Thorin’s chest whilst continuing the hypnotic sounds of the elvish tongue, Thorin finally pulls in a deep breath before his eyes flutter open.

He tries to say something, but his throat does not yet allow any sounds to be formed.

Kili looks up to Thranduil in desperation, silently asking for permission to move. And Thranduil returns his glance and nods, “Gentle.”

Fili lets go of Kili who climbs onto the bed and puts his arms around Thorin’s body, whilst giving Thorin’s lips a sideways kiss, not daring to lean onto him or move his head. But Thorin is coming to now and turns his head into the kiss, his dry lips softly brushing against Kili’s as his eyes are starting to focus.

“Kili,” he now manages to bring out. The sounds is raspy as if he hasn’t used his voice in years.

“Oh Thorin,” Kili cries, “oh my love, I thought I’d lost you! I thought you were gone. _Menu mizim, menu furkhuh. Â_ _zyungâl_ , please don’t ever leave me _._ ” Kili smothers Thorin in kisses, almost stealing his breath away once more.

Fili has been staring so intensely at the scene before him that he jumps when Thranduil lays a hand on his shoulder. “I will give you some privacy. But you must let him rest soon. Find me when you leave and I will tend to him.” Fili nods and watches the Silver King stride out of the room.

He is not sure what to do himself. Should he leave to?

“Fili,” Thorin voice is soft, but it sounds stronger than it did a moment ago and when Fili looks up he can see a pale hand stretched out at him. He tentatively steps forward, and takes the trembling hand into his.

“Thorin, thank Mahal that you’ve come back to us.”

“I will not leave you,” Thorin whispers with a soft smile. And then a frown crosses his face. “What happened to your beard?”

And Fili cannot help but chuckle at the uttermost ridiculous question under the circumstances as he gently wraps his arms around Thorin, joining his brother’s arms from Thorin’s other side into the embrace. “I have missed you, Thorin.”

Thorin wraps his arms around his two nephews, flinching just a little as his wound pulls as he brings them closer. “I have missed you too, Fili.” And then to the both of them, “We will always be together. The three of us.” And as he places a kiss on each of their foreheads he knows that he has never been more determined about anything in his life. If Mahal has allowed him to return to this life once more than he will honour His munificence and keep the brothers together at his side for as long as he shall live. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this was fluffy... I couldn't let him die though could I?
> 
> Menu mizim, menu furkhuh = you are a jewel, you are my life


End file.
